


Flower Theft

by AngelwithMidnightWings



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Everything Hurts, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelwithMidnightWings/pseuds/AngelwithMidnightWings
Summary: Henry wants to visit his mother's grave but encounters an old friend, who didn't realize Regina Mills was dead





	Flower Theft

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of doing a final project I wrote this. I will be continuing my other multi-chapter for those wondering, just after my semesters over. Sorry, have this as a consolation. ;)

“Hey,” a woman’s voice calls, just as Henry is plucking the flowers from her front lawn.

He stands, sheepish, trying to hide the flowers behind his back, and digging his booted foot into the soil of the grass. “So you’re the one, who’s been stealing my flowers, huh?”

She doesn’t sound too angry to Henry’s ear, but definitely annoyed. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says, voice a whisper.

“Look at me, kid,” the woman says, sounding closer, her own feet scuffing against the cement of her walkway. “I’ll have you know those were very expensive.”

He finally looks up at her and sees a tall figure with blonde hair tied up and held back with a bandana. She wears skinny jeans and a red leather jacket, brown boots the cause of her scuffing. She bends down a little, bracing herself against her knees to hold his eye contact.

“What are you doing with my flowers, kid?” She says, voice soft.

He frowns and holds them out for her to take from him, already expecting her anger. But she just looks at him.

“What good are they to me now? They are already picked.”

And he flushes, because he didn’t think about that. “I was bringing them to my mom, ma’am. They are her favourite flower and they don’t sell them at Game of Thorns. It costs too much to have them imported. I’m sorry.”

She claps his shoulder and turns him around with a hand. “Why don’t I come with you, to make sure your mom is pretty enough to warrant flower theft, and to talk to her about this little incident.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Henry says, trying to break away from her grip. He doesn’t know how he’ll explain when she finds out where they are going.

“Nonsense,” she says, leading him on. “I’m sure your mother would like to know where you’ve gotten those flowers if they aren’t at Game of Thorns. I just moved back to town myself, its been a long time. What did you say your name was, kid?”

“I didn’t,” he says, mumbling into his jacket.

She laughs, a smile revealing a dimple on her left cheek. “I’m Emma.”

“Henry,” he finally says.

Her eyes flash too quickly for him to recognize the emotion in them, and she hums softly. She lets go of his shoulder, digging her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“Alright, Henry, how old are you?”

“Eleven. How old are you?”

Emma laughs again and nudges him with her hip. “Haven’t you been taught to never ask a lady her age?”

He shrugs, smiling. “I don’t see a lady around, do you?”

She stops walking, and she’s impossible to read. For a moment, he thinks he pushed too far.

Then she’s laughing harder than she had before, bending over and clutching at her stomach. “That was good, kid. I’m twenty-eight.”

His footsteps slow down as they approach the gate to their destination and Emma keeps on walking, almost missing when he stops completely to push open the gate.

She stops, smile dropping from her face and murmurs a soft, “oh.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Henry says, eyes downcast.

She looks at him, bending down again and grasping his chin in the cup of her palm. “Hey, it’s okay, kid. You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you want me to walk in with you?”

He hesitates. No one ever offers to come in with him. It’s too hard on his aunt, his grandfather passed away a few years ago, and his grandmother tried to ignore his existence most of the time. No one even really knows he comes here at all except his therapist Archie.

He nods, tears beginning to well up in his eyes, and she smiles softly, gripping his hand. She pushes open the gate, stepping in first. “Where is she?” She says, looking around.

He leads her to the back, where a grand marble mausoleum stands. “Everyone in my family is buried here,” he says, eyes running over the doors like he does every time. His gaze turns to Emma and sees her eyes glued to the family name over the door.

She’s frowning, muttering something under her breath, and he tugs on her hand. She looks down at him finally, her own tears present. He’s surprised at that. Sure, when people found out they often felt sorry for him, but rarely did they cry.

“Can you help me open it? It gets stuck sometimes, making it really heavy.” He says, trying to ignore his confusion, and lets go of her hand.

She swipes under her eyes quickly, before she comes up beside him to pull it open fully.

He steps in but she stays back. “You have this moment with your mom,” she says as explanation, turning her back on the door. Her voice cracks as she continues, “you can take my flowers any time.”

“Will you,” Henry begins, but thinks better of it, seeing her reaction. He’s just being ridiculous.

She looks at him over her shoulder, seeing the defeated look in his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You want me to come in?”

He nods, moving in slightly to give her room to walk through the door. Then he approaches the coffin standing in the middle, where dead flowers rest on top.

“She’ll be here until the next Mills dies,” he says, stroking his fingers over the cold metal. “Then she’ll be moved to the wall. My grandpa is over there, he was here before her,” he says, pointing to a newer looking plaque on the wall. The name reads: Henry Mills.

Emma steps up beside him, her own hands trembling as she traces her fingers over the coffins plaque. _Regina Mills_. “No,” she mouthes, tearing up again.

Henry places the flowers on top and turns to Emma, his confusion obvious. “Did you know my mom?”

She looks up at him, bottom lip trembling before she traps it between her teeth and chews on it a moment. She clears her throat. “How did she die?”

He frowns. “She was hit by a drunk driver while walking home. He came up on the curb. I was told there was no way she could have survived that type of hit.”

Emma’s hands fist at her sides. Her voice is low, barely above a growl. “Who hit her, Henry? Who was it?”

“I-I don’t, I don’t know,” he says, shrinking under the intensity of her gaze. “No one would tell me.”

Emma turns, storming from the mausoleum. She’s shaking from anger, and Henry can only follow quickly behind, shooting one last look at his mother’s coffin. “Emma, wait,” he calls. She doesn’t stop.

He follows Emma all the way to Mifflin street, and he doesn’t know if he’s surprised she knows where they live. She’s banging on the front door, and when that doesn’t seem to illicit a quick enough response, she begins shouting.

“Dammit, Zelena, open the Goddamn door! Right this instant, Zelena. Now!”

Henry is trembling behind her when the door is finally yanked open. It’s not his aunt however, it’s his uncle, with angry eyes.

Emma stops at the sight of him, gritting her teeth and taking a step back. “Where is Zelena, Robin?” She says, voice a growl.

“Emma,” he says, surprise colouring his own voice, and the anger in his eyes dims. “She’s putting the baby down for a nap.”

Emma does a solid impression of a fish as her mouth opens and closes. “The baby?”

“Yes, our baby,” he annunciates, before he catches sight of Henry. “Where have you been, Henry? Your aunt has been worried sick?”

Henry flushes with embarrassment, feet scuffing the ground. “I’m sorry.”

He looks up in time to see Emma’s eyes flash again. “I want to speak with Zelena. Now.”

“I’m here,” his aunt’s voice chimes from just behind Robin.

Robin steps out of the way, allowing Zelena to move in front of him. “Emma,” she says, surprise across her face. “What are you doing back in Storybrooke?”

Emma shrinks at the sight of his aunt, as though seeing her makes something even more real. And Henry is very confused at this point.

Zelena sighs, gesturing into the house. “Would you like to come in and talk?”

Emma wraps her arms around herself. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Emma, please. Not out here.”

“Why?” Emma asks, angry again. “Your neighbours know, don’t they? Hell, the whole town knows. And nobody told me. Not when I suggested moving back. Not when I was moving into my house. Nobody told me when I implied that maybe the town had gotten bigger since I left.”

“That’s exactly it, Emma,” Zelena says, hissing as she steps into Emma’s space, poking at her chest with a long, pointy finger. “You left! Not us, you did. We didn’t ask you to come back either.”

Emma’s eyes fill with tears as she turns away from Henry’s aunt, but when she sees Henry, standing there with his mouth hanging open, face scrunched in confusion, she collapses to her knees in front of him. She cups his face between her hands, searching his features. “I’m so, sorry, Henry,” she says, hiccuping at the beginning of a sob. 

He grips her hands with his own. “Who are you?” He says.

“Emma,” she says, voice a whisper. “Just Emma. But it doesn’t matter now.”

She looks over her shoulder at Zelena, seeing tears in the redheads eyes too. 

“Who did this, Zelena? Please, tell me.”

Zelena shakes her head. “Don’t do something stupid, Swan. He’s not worth it. He did his time.”

Emma growls, eyes darkening. “He was let out?”

“Emma,” Zelena tries again, stepping towards her. But Emma stands, and her build is much bigger and sturdier than Zelena’s. “He was drunk and saw her, says he didn’t mean to swerve towards her.”

“Is it who I am thinking it is, Zelena. Tell me it isn’t, Glass. Tell me its not.”

Zelena looks down and Emma is spinning away from the three of them, ignoring Zelena’s cries for her to stop. “She wouldn’t want this!”

“Well, then good thing she isn’t here to see it,” Emma says, voice a howl. She’s practically sprinting down the block at this point.

Zelena grabs Henry with one hand, her cell in the other, shouting over her shoulder for Robin to watch the baby.

“Aunt Z, what is going on?” Henry asks as they get into his aunt’s car.

“We have to stop her from doing something she’ll regret, Henry,” is the reply he gets.

“But, who is she?”

Zelena looks at him, sorrow in her eyes as she presses the phone to her ear. “She loved your mom, Henry. Still does.”

Henry sits quiet at that, trying to process the information as Zelena begins to talk into her phone.

“Graham, it’s Zelena. Get to the daily mirror, now.”

A pause.

“No, you have to listen to me. She found out.”

Another pause.

“Yes, she’s back, and she knows. Stop her, please, before something happens that she can’t change.”

A third pause. 

“Yes, I’m on my way.”

Zelena lets out a growl as she throws her phone into the back seat.

“Dammit, Emma.”

Henry’s voice is quiet when he speak. “Aunt Z?”

“Yes, Henry,” she says, with a sigh.

“Why did no one tell Emma that mom died?”

Zelena glances at him. “I don’t know, Henry. But they haven’t talked for a long time.”

“But she loved her, so why’d she leave in the first place?”

“It wasn’t her choice.”

“Oh, “ Henry says, as they pull up out front of the newspaper’s headquarters. 

They can hear the shouting from outside and Zelena orders Henry to stay in the car, but he doesn’t listen, creeping in after her.

He sees Emma straddling a man who is vaguely recognizable to him, hands fisted into his shirt and screaming into his face.

“Get this crazy woman off of me,” Sydney Glass screams to the onlookers.

No one is willing to go near the enraged woman though, even Zelena is keeping her distance. “Emma, stop,” Zelena calls. “This isn’t right.”

“You did this!” Emma continues to scream. “You did this!”

Finally, Graham, the town sheriff, bounds in from behind Henry, jostling him a bit. Henry watches as the large man wraps his arms around Emma, and another cop, David Nolan, Henry’s mind supplies, pulls Sydney up and out of the way.

Emma is kicking and screaming, but Graham keeps her pinned to his chest, whispering words into her ear.

“Graham, let me go,” she hisses.

“Emma, I can’t do that,” he replies, tightening his arms as Emma throws her head back into his shoulder, trying to dislodge the man. “Stop fighting me, Emma. Just breathe.”

Emma finally collapses into him, and Graham rocks them back and forth on the ground of the Daily Mirror’s office floor. She’s sobbing, clutching at the uniform beneath her hands. “I couldn’t protect her. Did she know? Did it hurt? I never got to tell her I was sorry. Graham please, did she know?”

“She did,” he whispers, brushing blonde hair away from her face. “She knew, Emma. I’m so sorry.”

“Why did no one tell me?” She whimpers. “How long ago?”

He hesitates and she lifts her head from his chest. “A year,” he finally says, and Emma begins to cry again. “I didn’t know they didn’t tell you, Em. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Regina,” Emma cries out his mother’s name, and Henry goes running to the blonde. He crashes into both Emma and Graham and the blonde doesn’t say anything as she begins to rock him back and forth. Slowly, Graham releases them both, and let’s them have a moment.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” she says, pressing her lips to his temple and smoothing out his hair, the way his mom used to. “You can take my flowers for her anytime.”

“You loved her?” He asked, looking up at her.

She nods, smiling down at him.

“I still do. I will always love Regina. Whether she’s here, or gone. I still do."

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this prompt I found “sometimes I steal flowers from you garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the ‘girls is pretty enough to warrant flower theft’ and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to the graveyard”
> 
> Warning: this may hurt some emotions


End file.
